Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 79938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79938 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 400(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)
The bartender turned to make our drinks as we watched the people milling around. When she came back and put the drinks down and moved to push a pretty silver plate with a bill toward us, a suited figure came out of nowhere behind Benny. He was tall, dark everything, and so intimidating just standing there that I almost felt uncomfortable.
He reached for the bill tray thing, pushing it back toward the bartender while shaking his head. "Whatever they have is on Pagan's tab tonight." He spared me a very cool, very detached glance. "Or any night," he added.
"Right, Mr. Ward," the bartender said, giving him a drink, also neat, and he turned and walked away without another word.
"Girl, your boyfriend hooked us up."
"He's not my boyfriend," I insisted, but inside felt a weird swelling feeling that felt akin to hope. But that, seeing as I didn't even know the man, and what I did know meant he was absolutely not in any way boyfriend material, was insane.
"Just saying, him hooking us up maybe means a hookup would be appropriate."
"Way to make me sound like a whore," I said, but I was smiling.
"You need to live a little. Hoe it up. You won't die regretting that fling you had with the sexy biker fighter who hooked you up with a nice night out."
The crazy thing was, I was starting to maybe believe that myself.
After all was said and done and I spent a few weeks obsessing over how it was a waste of time (even though the time would have passed anyway and much more orgasm-free), I would eventually move on and chalk it up to a moment of insanity and let it be. I wouldn't be crying over having sex with Pagan a year from now, ten years from now, on my deathbed. In fact, a larger part of me was pretty sure a little, shriveled, wrinkly, dying version of me would be mentally kicking her own ass if I didn't decide to have a tryst with Pagan.
My father once told me that your life is a series of stories that you can pass on.
At this particular point, what the hell kind of stories did I have? It was all work, and obsessing over making work better, and wallowing in my misfortune.
No one wanted to sit on a porch and hear that kinda thing.
I needed at least that one crazy, ridiculous, out of character story.
And as I stood there and watched people mill around, most dressed in fancy clothes I knew I would never be able to afford, I realized this was that one for me.
Somehow, I even thought maybe that was something Pagan was totally fine with- being a girl's wild and crazy tale. Hell, I was sure he was that for many of women before me.
"Look who it is," a voice said, seeming to come up by my side. "The woman who broke my heart!"
Confused, I turned, finding the blond and bearded biker from the gates of The Henchmen compound, dressed the same way he was that night in jeans, a tee, and his cut, despite everyone else mostly in suits. Actually, he was flanked by three other men in almost identical outfits, including the growler with the dark, exotic look to him.
"Oh, mama," Benny said under his breath, barely loud enough for me to hear, and internally, I was agreeing.
Because all four of them were stupidly good looking.
The two I didn't know were both tall, giant walls of manly muscle, one white and one black, both with an unmistakably dangerous vibe.
"Probies, this is Pagan's, ah, friend... Kennedy. And her friend..."
"Benny," I supplied.
"A pleasure," Benny said, giving them a smile.
"You've met me and Edison, but these two are Sugar and Virgin. This is your first time at Hex, right?"
"Had no idea it even existed," I admitted.
"Pretty snazzy place considering it will be half-covered in blood once Pagan gets in the cage. He has been benched for a while, so he's due."
I chose not to say that he had just been in a fight a little over a week ago. I figured maybe that wasn't the same thing or something. Who knew. Bikers seemed like a different breed of people.
"Oh, that means the first fight is starting," Cyrus declared when the lights dimmed. "Have fun, Kennedy, angel. I hope to see more of you." There was a strange inflection in his voice that I didn't quite understand, like he was amused, but trying to hide it? I dunno. Something like that.
"I'm assuming you don't want to get a closer look," Benny said, trying not to sound disappointed. And failing epically.
"I don't," I agreed with a smile, but nudged his shoulder. "But you go ahead. I'll be right over... there," I said, gesturing toward a private little couch in a corner as far away from the ring as possible. Really, the people would just be moving blurs from that far away. Just how I wanted it.